Northern Lad
by Marginalia

He never really had Oz. You couldn't hold a boy like that, couldn't keep him forever, liquid silver sinking to his knees, tasting you secret and salt. You could experience him for a while, kisses wet in the rain, shivering like music. But he'd never really be yours.

"I'm going now", Oz said. They were as far west as you could get, though, so Oz went far to the east and back. Postcards from Canada, if you could see me now, slow molasses tucked between the lines.

Giles slipped the cards into a book and turned the page.